


The Finish Line

by BastetCG



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastetCG/pseuds/BastetCG
Summary: “You’re that famous ice skater, right?”  As soon as the words left Yuuri’s mouth, he wanted to take them back.  Viktor poked his head out from under the covers.  His withering look would probably haunt Yuuri for years.“I was that famous ice skater, yes.  Until I tore my Achilles’.”“Is that why you’re here?” Yuuri kept going and oh God, why did he keep going?  “Not the injury, I mean, you can’t skate anymore so…”Viktor considered him for a short moment, mouth barely open.  Finally, he said, “You know, I’ve been in the boot for two months, and I’ve lost count of the people asking me when I’m getting back on the ice.”“Well, don’t you want to?”“I haven’t wanted to get back on the ice for years.”Yuuri didn’t know what to say to that, so like an idiot, he said something anyway.  “So…it’s not the injury then?”“No.  It it’s not the injury.”Yuuri swallowed. “I’ll turn out the light now.”





	The Finish Line

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this after a pretty extreme depressive episode of my own, but not finished until recently. This is a mental ward fic, not so much that it's edgy and dark and everyone's CrAzY, but more in the sense that it takes place in a mental ward. Like everyone else, i have based the expression of both viktor and yuuri's disorders and experiences on my own. That being said, i have never been hospitalized for my depression or anxiety, so I tried to steer the narrative away from that and focus on Yuuri and Viktor's relationship. I guess I should also state that I am not trying to imply that finding a significant other will cure any mental disorder, but having someone who wants to understand and provide support is a godsend during the worst episodes.  
> WARNING: The beginning scene details suicidal thoughts, and there is an anxiety attack in the middle, so if these things are triggering, maybe don't read this fic.

Viktor looked at the medals gleaming in his trophy case with glazed eyes.  It wasn’t really the medals he was looking at, but the thick ribbons tied to them.  Would one be strong enough to support his body weight from a fan?  A morbid thought, but one he was having more and more frequently.  The only thing keeping him from lifting a shaking hand and opening the case to pull a medal out and test its tensile strength was his lack of energy.  He was so tired.  He was so, so tired.  He wanted to be dead, but dying seemed like so much work.  Not to mention people still had expectations for him, despite his recent injury.  He was still young, they reassured him, he could bounce back.  God, he hated this.   What kind of pathetic person couldn’t even kill themselves for fear of disappointing others?

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and for a moment, he contemplated not checking it.  He forced himself to pull it out and glanced at the screen.  Yakov.

 

_Another one of your sponsors just dropped.  Not a big one.  Thought you should know ASAP.  Yakov._

 

Viktor’s thumb hovered over the contact info button, caught between not wanting to be a burden and desperately wanting Yakov to notice.  He refused to think as he pressed the call button.

“Vitya?  Why are you calling?”

Viktor tried to laugh, but it came out stale.  “Just, uh, wanted to know which sponsor it was.”

“Sherwin’s.  You could have just texted.”

Viktor silently begged for Yakov to notice how his voice shook.  “Well, you know me.  Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Humph.”

Viktor wracked his brain for something to say, anything, if it kept Yakov on the phone.

“Why are you really calling me, Vitya?”

Viktor’s mouth opened, his mask cracking slightly.  “I, uh.”

“Articulate as always.”

“I’m.  Not doing too well,” he laughed again.  It was just as stale as the first laugh.

“Vitya,” Yakov’s voice softened, “what’s wrong?”

“I think…I think I might do something stupid,” Viktor said, fake smile still in place.  His throat tightened as he thought about what he was doing.  Yakov had enough to worry about with his other students and all the drama surrounding Viktor’s injury.  He didn’t need to deal with Viktor’s problems too.

The line was quiet for a moment.  Yakov sighed heavily, then said, “I’m coming over.  Don’t do anything until I get there, do you understand?  Do you think you can follow my instructions for once in your life?”

“I’ll go sit.  And wait,” was all Viktor could say without bursting into tears.

Yakov arrived fifteen minutes later, looking as concerned as his face would allow.  Viktor couldn't keep the fatigue in any longer.  One tear slipped out, then another, and another, and soon Viktor was sobbing into his own hands.  Yakov stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching his student crying.  After a few uncomfortable seconds, Yakov pulled out his phone and turned away.  He spoke quietly, soft enough that Viktor couldn’t hear what he was saying.

When he was done, he turned back to Viktor and said, “I’m staying the night.  Tomorrow you’re going to the hospital.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri hadn’t known what to expect out of his new roommate.  He was walking into his room after lunch with the rest of the patients when a man with thinning hair and a hat greeted him gruffly.  Surely this old man couldn’t be his new roommate?

“Vitya is still with the doctors.  I’ll be out of your hair once all his things are settled.”

“O-oh,” was all Yuuri managaed.

“He’s here because he’s depressed.  What about you?”

Maybe it had to do with how blasé this man was about it, or maybe the therapy was starting to work, but Yuuri didn’t even hesitate when he responded.  “Severe anxiety.”

The man nodded once, apparently approving of Yuuri’s disorder, but couldn’t say anything else because the door opened.  Yuuko grinned when she caught Yuuri’s eye.

“Oh look!  Yuuri’s back!  Viktor, this is your roommate, Katsuki Yuuri.  Yuuri, this is Viktor Nikiforov.”

Behind Yuuko stood a haggard-looking man around Yuuri’s age, with short greasy hair, bags under his drooping eyes, and a melancholy expression haunting his lips.  He was wearing a moonboot on his right leg, but otherwise wise he dressed plainly.  He glanced up from the floor met Yuuri’s eyes and then planted his gazed firmly on the ground again.  He probably thought Yuuri was crazy.  Scratch that, Yuuri was crazy.  He wouldn’t be in the mental ward if he wasn’t.  But maybe Viktor thought Yuuri was the “Yes, I am a threat to myself and others” kind of crazy.  Yuuri was somewhat offended by that.

“He’ll be in your group for eating and therapy.  So, remember to be nice,” Yuuko reminded him.  He glared at her.  She jotted a few things down on her clip board, then asked, “Did you manage to eat lunch with everyone else today?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri mumbled.

“That’s good.  I’ll note it on your chart.”  And with a smile, she left the three men alone.

Before things got awkward, Yakov blew out a long breath.

“How are you feeling, Vitya?”

“Terrible,” Viktor said with a smile.  He rubbed at the crook of his elbow.  Yuuri had missed the purple medical tape earlier.  Yuuri scrathed his own elbow in sympathy.  He hated the weekly blood tests.

“Hmmm,” was all Yakov said in response.  Then he turned to Yuuri.  “How long have you been here for your…nervous thing?”

“Four weeks.”  That was not the answer Yakov wanted.

“Four weeks?!  You must be almost better now, right?  They’re not keeping you here for nothing, are they?”

“Yakov,” Viktor said tersely.  They exchanged a few words in some Slavic language, then Yakov humphed once more.

“Apologies.  I’ve been informed that I’m prying.”

“It’s…fine.”  It wasn’t fine, but Yuuri had gotten used to restating his medical history to anyone who asked.

Viktor said a few more words Yuuri didn’t understand, then both he and Yakov left the room together.  Yakov gave Yuuri a nod good-bye before the door shut behind them.  By the time Viktor had returned, looking slightly more disheveled, if that were possible, Yuuri was about to leave for the library.

“Uh, we have free time right now,” he said awkwardly.  “I’m going to the library if you’d like to join?”  And why had he even said that?  Why on earth would Viktor want to join some stranger in a library of all places?

“Oh, uh,” Viktor stuttered.  “If it’s not a problem, I think I’d like to put my things in place?  Or what’s left of my things.”  Duh.  Of course.  Yuuri scolded himself for not thinking of that earlier, then scolded himself for scolding himself.

“Did they take your dental floss?” he forced out.

“Yeah,” Viktor said, puzzled.  “Why do they do that?”

“Self-harm.”

“Well why didn’t they take my shoelaces, huh?”

Yuuri laughed.  “Do you need _me_ to take your shoelaces?”

“No, I’m just saying I’ve had more thoughts about using shoelaces for things like that than dental floss.”

“You and every other patient in here.  I think you’ll find that most things don’t really seem logical to us.  Although, to be fair, most of us aren’t very logical.”

Viktor actually laughed outright at that.  “No, I suppose not.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri had been too nervous to go to dinner that night, so he was reading when Viktor returned to their room.  He gave Viktor a tight-lipped smile, which Viktor returned.  Yuuri tried not to be obvious as he watched Viktor get ready for bed.  Viktor brushed his teeth in the small sink across from their beds, then stripped down to his underwear, removed his boot, and crawled into bed.  Yuuri had thought Viktor looked familiar, so he’d scoured through magazines in the library until he found a small spread in last year’s Sports Illustrated body issue.  Viktor looked much thinner, less muscular than he had been in the issue.  Again, not that Yuuri was _really_ looking.  Viktor was burrowed under the blankets, just a tuft of greasy hair, sticking out from under his sheets.  He sighed, but settled into the lumpy mattress.

“You’re that famous ice skater, right?”  As soon as the words left Yuuri’s mouth, he wanted to take them back.  Viktor poked his head out from under the covers.  His withering look would probably haunt Yuuri for years.

“I _was_ that famous ice skater, yes.  Until I tore my Achilles’.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Yuuri kept going and oh _God_ , why did he keep going?  “Not the injury, I mean, you can’t skate anymore so…”

Viktor considered him for a short moment, mouth barely open.  Finally, he said, “You know, I’ve been in the boot for two months, and I’ve lost count of the people asking me when I’m getting back on the ice.”

“Well, don’t you want to?”

“I haven’t wanted to get back on the ice for years.”

Yuuri didn’t know what to say to that, so like an idiot, he said something anyway.  “So…it’s not the injury then?”

“No.  It it’s not the injury.”

Yuuri swallowed. “I’ll turn out the light now.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Viktor refused to get out of bed.

“If you don’t show up for the daily checkups, you don’t get dessert.”

“I don’t care.”

They’ll take away your free time.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“They’ll send Emil to come get you.”

“Go away.”

“Viktor, please?”  Yuuri shifted from foot to foot, somewhat embarrassed.  “I…I need you to go with me.”

The covers flew as Viktor threw them off to get a better look at Yuuri.  He narrowed his eyes, as if Yuuri were lying to him.

“Breakfast is right after checkups, and I…if someone doesn’t force me to go to breakfast, I won’t go, and then _I’ll_ lose free time.”

Viktor blinked a few times, then swung his legs out of his bed.  “Fine.  Yeah, fine.”  His voice wavered, almost like he might cry.  “Just let me get dressed, I guess.”

They were walking down the hallway together, passing several taupe doors until they reached the check in room.  There were only two people ahead of them.

“So is this how this place works?  You do what they say and they let you go?”

“Essentially.”

“What if you can’t do what they say?  What if you aren’t getting better?”

“You pretend.”

Viktor’s eyes went wide and his lip trembled.  They stood in line quietly after that.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor came back from therapy worse.  It had been a week, and everything had been going so well.  Yuuri had thought maybe, just maybe, Viktor would be able to get out of there quickly.  But now it wasn’t looking so good.

Viktor slammed the door shut on his way in, then fell into bed face first.  He screamed into his pillow and pounded the bed with his fists.  It might have been comical, seeing a grown man throwing a tantrum like a child, but Yuuri knew exactly what Viktor was feeling, and he couldn’t laugh.

When Viktor’s screaming died down, and he lost the energy to punch the mattress, Yuuri asked, “That well, huh?”

Viktor let out a sad grunt into his bedding.

“You had Celestino, right?”

“He doesn’t fucking listen!  He doesn’t fucking listen!”

“Haha, yeah.  I know,” Yuuri said awkwardly.  “Do you need anything?  A glass of water?  A hug?”

“If you hug me, I’ll cry,” came Viktor’s muffled reply.

“You need to cry,” Yuuri sighed.  He knew Viktor was severely depressed.  He had all the symptoms, save crying spells, and that concerned Yuuri.  When he opened his eyes, Viktor was sitting upright looking at him strangely.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“You won’t be upset if I cry?”

“Viktor, you’ve seen me in tears about seventeen times in the last two days alone.  Why would I care if you’d cried?”

“I just…I don’t…I’m twenty-seven.”

“Come here,” Yuuri waved him over.  He stood, posture unsure, and stepped toward Yuuri.  Yuuri stood as well, and met Viktor between their beds.  Viktor initiated the hug, which Yuuri was grateful for.  He was warm against Yuuri’s chest and around his shoulders, and suddenly he was sobbing.  Yuuri just pat him on the back a few times.

“He wants to change my diagnosis to persistent depressive disorder,” Viktor gasped.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes!  It’s always there!  It never goes away!”

Yuuri hummed in sympathy.

“I want to go home,” Viktor said quietly.  “I want to go home, but when I’m there, I still want to go home.”

“I’m sorry Viktor.”  There wasn’t really anything else to say, so they stood holding each other for a few long minutes.

 

* * *

 

 

“You still awake?” Viktor half whispered across their room.  The only light came from the street lamp outside their window, but it lit up the room just enough for Yuuri to see the outline of Viktor’s head facing him.

“Yeah.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Me either.”

“I told you not to nap during free time.”

“My meds made me drowsy!”  Viktor had recently added low dosages of Abilify to his regimen, and it made him pass out at two pm every day.  “What’s your excuse?”

“Overthinking, as usual.”

“About what?”

Yuuri sighed.  He didn’t really want to talk about it, but Viktor tended to be persistent.  “Just.  How much money I’m costing my parents.  How many people I’ve let down.  That one time in fourth grade when I threw up at lunch.”

“Is that why you have trouble eating in from of other people?”

“Huh?  Oh, I guess.  I just don’t like making noises when I eat, but I can’t help it, so I eat alone.”

“So other people won’t hear you?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, no one else can hear you chew right?”

“Yeah.”

“I chew louder than you.”

“I know.”

“But it doesn’t help?”

“No.  But you forcing me to eat with everyone else does.  I usually forget to be self-conscious halfway through the meal.”

Viktor’s cheek bunched up, and Yuuri wished to God that it was light enough to see the smile that was surely on Viktor’s face.  Real smiles for him were so rare.

“Even if it’s passive aggressive and frustrating?”

“Yes, even if it’s passive aggressive and frustrating.”

Viktor shifted in his sheets, the put his feet on the ground and walked to Yuuri’s bed.  Yuuri scooted over in confusion, and Viktor slid under his covers, then sidled up against Yuuri’s.

“Is this okay?” he asked, breath creeping into his voice.

Surprisingly, it was.  “Yeah.”

“You know, I’m not sure anyone is disappointed in you Yuuri.  I think you’re disappointed in yourself.  You set your standards so high you can never reach them, so to protect yourself, you think that everyone else is disappointed, but that only takes away a little of the hurt.”

Viktor couldn’t see Yuuri gaping.

“To be honest, I think that even if you never did anything else for the rest of your life, you’ve already achieved more than necessary.  You have crippling anxiety, but you still managed to finish college and start a job.  Your parents wouldn’t be paying for your treatment if they didn’t want to.  You need to give yourself some credit.”

Yuuri snapped his jaw shut and burrowed his face into Viktor’s chest.  Viktor startled but didn’t move away.

After that night, they pushed their beds together.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri and Viktor had been roommates for three weeks when Yuuri had his first major break down.  Honestly, he’d been doing better since Viktor had moved in.  He was a constant presence for Yuuri.  Yuuko, would often ask where Yuuri’s puppy dog was when Viktor took a rare afternoon to call Yakov.  Yuuri didn’t know what it was about Viktor, maybe how quiet he was or how he didn’t seem to have any negative opinions about anyone, that endeared him to Yuuri.

But Viktor had been getting better.  That was great, fantastic even.  Viktor had more energy, and that meant he could do more things with Yuuri.  He was always excited to do things with Yuuri.  But that meant that Viktor would be able to leave.  Even if not within the week, sometime soon.  He’d learned to control his depression in three weeks, while Yuuri had been there almost five and still hadn’t made much progress.

Viktor found him curled up in the library behind the reference section, hyperventilating and thrashing around.

“Yuuri!”  Viktor leaned down to grab and right him.

“Don’t touch me!” Viktor flinched backwards at Yuuri’s hiss.  “Don’t touch me…”

“What’s wrong?  What can I do?”

Yuuri wanted to shout, ‘nothing!’ or, ‘don’t leave me behind!’ but he’d used up all his words and had to go back to gasping for air.  God, he hated panic attacks.  He knew he wasn’t dying, but it sure fucking felt like he was.

“I’ll go get someone—”

Yuuri grabbed at Viktor’s pant leg, which was a feat in and of itself, considering how numb his hands were.

“Stay.”

Viktor looked conflicted, but he eventually settled on the floor next to Yuuri, keeping his distance while Yuuri gasped and twitched.  Eventually, his breathing evened out, as it always did, and the feeling of impending doom just felt like a bothersome deadline.  He sat up, dried what remained of his tears and clenched his jaw.

“Are you okay now?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry?”

“I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“How often does it get that bad?”

“Once or twice a week?  Not nearly as often since you got here.”

“Oh.”  Yuuri stared at the blue carpet, counting the flecks of red.  “Do you…wanna talk about it?”

“Not really, but I should.”

“Okay.”

Biting his lip, he turned to face Viktor completely.  “You’re going to get discharged soon and leave me behind.”

Viktor couldn’t have looked more surprised if Yuuri had struck him.

“You were panicking because of me?”

“It wasn’t your fault!  I just.  I don’t want you to leave, but that’s not fair to you, and I don’t want you to stick around in this hellhole any longer than you need to, but then I think about how lonely I was before you showed up and how bad I used to feel and I don’t know I just—” he let out a puff of air in defeat.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, taking his hand.  “I don’t know really how to deal with panic attacks.  What do I do if I can’t touch you?”

“Just wait it out with me.”

“Okay.  I can do that.”

“Not if you’re not here!”

“I won’t be _here_ , you’re right, but Yuuri, if I get out of here before you, I’ll be waiting on the other side.  I’ll call every day, and I’ll visit on weekends.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you?”

Viktor deflated.  “You don’t know this because I’m a very good actor, but I’m not getting better, Yura.”

“Yes you are,” Yuuri furrowed his brow.

“No, I’m _pretending_.  Just like you told me too.  I have the energy to pretend again, and it feels awful, but it’s so wonderful, because I don’t have to pretend with you.”

“What?”

“I guess that might not make sense,” he said rubbing the back of his head.  He still hadn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand.  “When I talk to the doctors and nurses, I’m pretending for them that I’m better.  But when I’m with you, I _feel_ better.  You make me forget how tired I am.  You make it seem like life might not be an unending series of chores.  You’re amazing and surprising and I…oh.”

“Oh?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Yuuri yanked his hand out of Viktor’s.  “No you’re not.”

“Huh?”

“You can’t be in love with me.”

“And why not?”  Viktor’s expression changed from confused to offended.

“B-Because you’re a figure skating legend, and I…I barely made it out of undergrad.”

Viktor’s eyes softened, but he still looked upset.  “I didn’t graduate high school.”

“What?”

“You make it sound as if being good at figure skating is some intrinsic measure of worth, but I always found those who went on to higher education much more admirable than myself.”

“You’re a minor celebrity,” Yuuri tried to defend.

“And yet here I am.”

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Yuuri looked through his bangs.  “And you’re…serious?  This isn’t some kind of joke?”

“Why would I ever joke about something like this?  I’m in love with you, and I hope to God you feel same.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to answer right away.”

Yuuri swallowed but pressed on, “Viktor, I think I fell a little bit in love with you the moment you walked into our room.”  Yuuri had to laugh when Viktor’s ears went bright red.  “You have to know how handsome you are.”

“W-Well, yes, but it’s a little different when the most beautiful man in the world is saying so.”

This time Yuuri’s laugh sputtered out of pursed lips. “Was that a pickup line?”

“No, just stating a fact.”  Viktor was smiling.  Yuuri’s mouth went dry.

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks later, Viktor was released.  After six and a half weeks, Viktor had managed to fool the doctors into believing he was cured.  At one point, late at night, he’d said to Yuuri, “I’ve been like this since I can remember, and I don’t think I’ll ever _really_ get better.”

Yuuri could sympathize.  Even with aggressive treatment, both of their disorders remained treatment-resistant.

But Viktor was managing himself a little better.  He said the meds made it easier to focus, but not much else.  Yuuri was jealous, since he had switched medications to Lexapro, and that just made him nauseous.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I know.”

“You promise you’ll call every day?”

“Of course.  What else would I do?  It’s not like I can compete this season.”  He tapped his boot on the ground for emphasis.  Yuuri bit down his smile.

“You have two more weeks in that, right?”

“According to the physicians, yeah.”

“You could compete in Nationals.”

“If I wanted to throw myself back into the pit, sure.”  It was a conversation they’d had quite a few times.  It was more of a joke than anything else.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too.  I literally have no idea what I’m going to do with all my free time.  Maybe I’ll adopt a dog.”

“You should.  I’m partial to poodles.”

 Viktor took Yuuri’s hand in his, and kissed his knuckles.  “I’ll be waiting for you Yura.  And I’ll wait as long as I need to.”

Yuuri’s throat threatened to close, so he pulled Viktor into a hug, clutching desperately to his jacket.

“You can cry if you want,” Viktor mumbled in his ear.  “I don’t mind.”

“I know.  I just don’t want to ruin this.  This is supposed to be happy,” Yuuri said as he pulled away.  “You’re getting out of this place.  I should be happy for you.”

“It’s bittersweet,” Viktor said pulling him back into the hug.  “I’m going to need a kiss to make it less bitter.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you.”

“Oh my God,” Yuuri laughed.  Viktor began pressing kisses to different parts of Yuuri’s face, avoiding his lips until the very end.  Yuuri giggled into the final kiss.

“Vitya!” Yakov poked his head through their dorm door.  “Hurry up!  I finished signing you out ten minutes ago!”

“A few more minutes, Yakov,” Viktor said without taking his eyes off Yuuri.

“Oh, for the love of—!” Yakov, the poor man threw his hands into the air, but Yuuri could tell he was just glad to be taking Viktor out of the center, rather than checking him in.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a hard three weeks, but Yuuri managed to follow in Viktor’s footsteps.  Mari came to pick him up.

“You got fired from your job.”

“I know.”  He’d taken the maximum amount of medical leave, so he figured he’d lose his position.  Luckily, he’d kept a tidy little sum in his savings, so he’d be able to support himself until he got back into the workforce.  Or maybe he should pay his parents back.

“Mom and dad are excited to see you again.  I mean, really see you.  Back home and not in this place.”

“Hmm.  I’m excited to see them too.”

“You’re probably just excited to get out of here.”

“You’re not wrong.”  He hiked his duffle bag higher up on his shoulder.  They headed towards the desk where Yuuri would retrieve his phone and other confiscated items.

“You don’t want to say good bye to anyone?” Mari asked.  “What about that guy you always talked about on the phone when you remembered to call us? Vincent?”

“Viktor. He left.”

“Hmm.  No other friends?”

Yuuri pretended not to hear the second part.  “I haven’t heard from him in a few days.  He’s supposed to be looking for work.”

“Are you gonna keep in contact with him?”

“That’s the plan.”  The nurse handed Yuuri his belongings, which he handed to Mari, save his phone.  He cursed when he realized it was dead.

The first thing he did when it chirped on in Mari’s car was input Viktor’s number.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor moved into Yuuri's apartment two and a half months later.  Two weeks after that, they had their first fight.

“You should really consider getting back on the ice, Vitya.”

“I am back on the ice.”

“I mean competitively.”

“I like teaching at the rink.”

“It’s a waste of your abilities, you could go back and win again.”

“You sound like Yakov.”  When Yuuri only grumbled, Viktor continued, saying, “I’m old.  It’s hard getting back into competing after a year off at my age.”

“You’re only twenty-six.”

“That’s old for figure skater.”

“You could at least try.”

“I don’t want to try.”

“Why not.”

“W-Well because.”

“Because what?”

“I’d have to spend time away from you.”

“Are you serious, Vitya?”

“Well, and I’d have to go back to pretending.”

“No you wouldn’t.  You could—”

“Yuuri,” Viktor snapped.  Then he sighed.  “Yuuri.  If you really want me to go back to figure skating, I’ll…see what I can do.  But I’m really much happier down at the rink.  And for the record, I don’t think inspiring the next generation of skaters is a waste of my abilities.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“Don’t get snippy with me.”

“You’re being selfish with me.  I can be snippy if you’re going to be selfish.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri groaned.  Viktor pursed his lips.  He didn’t like it when Yuuri used his full name nowadays.  It felt too formal.  “I’m just trying to think of what’s best for you.  You get distant sometimes.  It makes me feel like you miss it.”

“I don’t miss it,” Viktor sighed, “I just.  I don’t know.  I wonder how much I could have achieved if I wasn’t depressed.  If I hadn’t torn my Achilles’.  I won’t be nearly as good anymore.”

“Are you worried about not winning if you go back.”

“A little.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t…you know it doesn’t matter if you win or come in last place, right?”

“I do, but I’m afraid my skating will suffer from my lack of interest more than my lack of practice.  The performance part was always the most fun for me.  At least until it wasn't.”  He flopped backwards into the Egyptian linen sheets on their bed.  He was begging Yuuri to relent.

Quietly, Yuuri said, “Will you at least think about it?  I think it would be good for you.”

“I’ll think about it.  _Think_.  No promises.”

“Alright.  I’m sorry for being so forceful about this.”

“It’s fine.  Like you said.  You’re trying to think about what’s best for me.  I appreciate that.”  He opened his arms, So Yuuri fell on top of him in a hug.  “Even if you’re wrong.”

“You’re awful.”

“Only as awful as you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor and Yuuri got engaged eight months later, in the January after Viktor took silver at the Grand Prix Final.  Not only had he surprised the world by returning, but also announcing that he was officially engaged to the love of his life, an unknown CFO from Detroit.  Sports media had gone crazy for a few days, especially when Jean-Jacques LeRoy had announced that he was also getting married, supposedly to keep his own victory in the media.

And then Viktor had announced his retirement at the press conference at World’s.  He’d taken a final gold medal by a slim margin, then announced his and Yuuri’s plans to get married in England later that year, as well as the fact that he’d be joining Yakov as a co-coach for Russia’s newest rising star, a young spitfire named Yuri Plisetsky.  Yuuri had scolded him afterwards, saying sometimes there was such a thing as too many surprises.

Viktor had just laughed.

“So I can still surprise you?”

“You’ve been one surprise after another since I met you.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sure the greasy hair and emaciation were a real pleasant surprise, huh?”

“Well imagine my surprise,” Yuuri grinned, “when I found that same man buck naked in a Sport Illustrated magazine looking like God on ice.”

Viktor hid a giddy smile in the shoulder of his jacket.  “You’re such a flatterer.”

“I have to be.  I’m your biggest fan, after all.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” Viktor laughed, bright red. “Did you want to go get dinner with Chris?  He wants to get a glass of wine to celebrate our retirements.”

“That sounds good.  Don’t let me drink too much this time though.”

“But you’re so funny when you’re drunk!”

“I have some things planned for tonight,” Yuuri whispered.  “Can’t follow through if I’m too drunk to remember.”

Viktor gave him a swift kiss.  “You have my word, and my heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for not updating my WIP's, but again,,,I have not been doing too well. I had to force myself to even write this, and half of it was written out of spite lmao. If you'd like updates about my WIP's, new projects, polls, and more, please visit (and maybe follow??) my writing twitter: https://twitter.com/bastetwrites


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